Until We Burn | Dr Who

Chapter Fifty-Six: 42

"And you're sure it's happening today? No over-shot?" Martha enquires as she pokes at her quiver of arrows.

The taxi takes another turn. I shift awkwardly, stuck in the middle. My leg brushes against the Doctor and I can't stop myself from nudging his foot with mine. Our eyes meet. He smiles. "Yep. Doublechecked, triple-checked, quadruple-checked. I say we've got—" Leaning over between the seats, he peers at the digital clock set into the car radio. The driver gives him an odd look when he goes slack-jawed, slowly lowering himself back.

I raise an eyebrow. "We're late, aren't we?"

"No. No, we're perfectly... twenty-two minutes early. And fifteen seconds. Fourteen seconds, now."

"Oh my God! We're gonna miss it."

The taxi comes to a stop. Fishing around in our pockets, we come up with enough for the fare and clamber out. Several pedestrians in the high street stare at us as we unload our archery bows.

"Hang on, which way is it again?"

Martha grabs our attention, pointing to a street sign. "Richmond Park, this way. You know, I could really deal with a better phone. All this travelling is brilliant but I can't even call home."

"You sure it's this way? Only, I could've sworn—"

"Doctor! Doctor!" A girl races out of a bookshop just behind us. Sure enough, she comes right up to us, her golden locks whipping at her face in her hurry. She looks him over, bright-eyed with excitement. "Doctor!"

He hesitates, glancing over at us and back to her. "Hello. Sorry, bit of a rush. There's a sort of... thing happening, fairly important we stop it."

Her lips part with a soft gasp. "My God, it's you. It really is you. Oh, you don't remember me, do you?"

Smiling apologetically, Martha beckons for him. "Doctor, we haven't got time for this. Migration's started."

"Look, sorry, I've got a bit of a complex life. Things don't always happen to me in quite the right order. Gets confusing. Especially weddings. I'm rubbish at weddings, especially my own."

She doesn't seem surprised in the slightest. "Oh my God, of course! You're a time traveller, it hasn't happened to you yet, none of it. It's still in your future."

"What hasn't happened?"

I'm a little surprised he's even asking that. Martha heads back over, tugging on his sleeve to grab his attention. "Doctor! Twenty minutes to red hatching."

A smile of realisation dawns on the girl's face. "It was me," she murmurs. "Oh, for God's sake, it was me all along. You got it all from me."

Hearing the slight rustle of the folder in her hands, his gaze darts down to it. "Got what?"

"Okay. Listen. One day you're going to get stuck in 1969," she explains. The folder is pushed towards him. "Make sure you've got this with you. You're gonna need it."

Now it's my turn to sigh impatiently. "Doctor, come on."

He winces, stuffing the folder inside his jacket pocket. "Yeah, listen, got to dash. Things happening. Well, four things. Well, four things and a lizard."

"Okay. No worries, on you go. See you around someday."

We only move a few steps before he turns again, asking, "What was your name?"

"Sally Sparrow."

"Good to meet you, Sally Sparrow."

A man heading back from the corner shop stops in his tracks. He blinks at us, almost dropping his bottle of milk. Sally takes his hand in hers. Whoever they are, it must mean a great deal more than just a handhold. I've grown quite familiar with the exact look on his face for it not to be.